Showing posts with label asset-strippers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label asset-strippers. Show all posts

Saturday, November 19, 2022

Tax 'Em And Scourge 'Em

 


Do you remember the chorus of teeth gnashing, incohate rage when now defunct Tory Premiere and her POC Chancellor had the literal, brazen temerity to cut taxes in the Sceptered Isle? Sure you do, and the unfortunately named Truss was kicked out of power along with her pet POC.

Lo and behold, a new budget's been announced in the UK by the ruling Brahman and the media love it. It goes like this, we will raise taxes, a lot, on anyone earning over 100k a year. Yes, you'll be hit, you robber barons, with a punitive 60% levy on your ill-gotten gains. Take that, capitalist swine!

In the meanwhile, Deep State civil servant pensions rise exponentially in tune with inflation. All animals, you see, are equal but some are more equal than others, not least retired Whitehall Mandarins. Nice gig if you can get it, which most Britons can't. They're being replaced by low cost immigrant labor to the tune of 100s of thousands of people a year. 

What I love most about this is that the Progressive Left applauds it. Get taxed outta existence, small business owner, and rejoice in your new trans bathroom as Blockrock takes over the franchise. Top hats, private jets and exclusive island clubs all 'round.

In the old days we used to know where these people lived, they were landowners on a grand scale and accountable to their estates. Today? That's gone, along with their contract to the people they should serve and manifestly don't.

It will end in tears, I tell you, and as always...

Guinea on the Monkey,

LSP

Saturday, September 4, 2021

Shack Down

 



There it was on the corner of Crack and Meth, a shack. I used to drive by the shack and point it out to the Cadet, "Play your cards right, son, and you too could live there." But not anymore, the shack has gone, reduced to a small pile of inconsequential debris in this once prosperous farming community.




And it was prosperous, complete with shops, businesses and 20,000 people. All on a walkable, human scale too. You know the score or perhaps you've read about it, being able to walk around your town saying hello to friends and avoiding enemies, perhaps shooting the latter in this instance. Hey, it was the frontier.




Then the asset-strippers took over, King Cotton moved overseas and the town hollowed out as the socio/psychopaths in charge of the way we live now decided to turn our towns and cities into roads. What would you rather live in, a city or a road? Asked no one, not waiting for an answer.

Net result? Shacks, which are returning to nature. Imagine, if you can, how that'll play out in our vast suburbs over the course of the next few decades. Think Detroit on a continental scale. But maybe there's hope, maybe we'll turn this thing around and start living, approximately, as we should.




Who knows. Next time you drive into any one of our Mega Cities, look at the landscape to either side of the highway and ask, "Could we do any better? Or is there some kind of law that says, 'No, you have to create the ugliest possible environment to live in, otherwise you won't be so rich.'"

Demonic, eh? In the meanwhile, I thank  God I'm in the country, shacks and all.

Cheers,

LSP

Sunday, January 12, 2020

Our Town MAGA 2020



"The sun's gone down on my town." Respect to Miss Dement, but that's exactly what we're working to turn around, putting an end to the asset-stripping gutting of our country by a transnational crew of elite Illuminati sociopaths.




The message resonates, which is why 45's filling stadiums and Groper Biden isn't. Look out, Virginia.

Watch my tracer.

MAGA 2020,

LSP